


Falling Slowly

by Neferit



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Trevelyan Siblings, Altnerate Universe, Community: dragonage_kink, F/M, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, warning: sexuality angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6239209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neferit/pseuds/Neferit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian really tried.</p><p>But after his very person fails at everything to make his parents, <i>his father</i>, proud, and determined to do everything they can to correct him, he runs and doesn't plan on ever looking back. But things change, especially when viewed from different perspective. </p><p>But truly, did the Maker have a warped sense of humour.</p><p>Kink meme inspired, deals with Dorian pre-game, through game and after game. Slow build.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a [prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/12149.html?thread=47460981#t47460981) over at dragonage_kink meme:
> 
>   _Since we're all anons, I feel like I can be a little more honest. I'm a gay man who fell in love with a woman. It was quite a shock, especially because I've never wanted to touch one, or be with one. But this girl..._  
>  Anyway.  
> I really love Dorian's character so I'm hoping someone will write something for me. I'd love to see a female Inquisitor (elf or human preference) being Dorian's 5%. (You know, 95% gay, 5% FemQuisitor). It doesn't have to be super explicit but my kingdom for true love.
> 
>  And since I was unsure how exactly to tag this, I rolled with what the awesomesaauce archivers of the meme did. Yay them!
> 
> Also, I'm unsure bout how quickly the story will progress, and how regular will the updates be. If you want to check up with me, fangirl with me etc., look me up on [tumblr](http://nefindahouse.tumblr.com/), I have asks enabled there, too.

 

Dorian really tried.

For as long as he could remember, he wanted to make his parents, but mainly his father, proud. Proud of what his his son, his heir, had done with his talent.

And for a very long time, it worked.

Dorian would study, and outshine many of his peers. His Harrowing, a rite feared by many of the southern mages, had been swift and almost laughably easy.

He was quick with his spells, and with and tongue. He had his mother's grace, and his father's dignity; handsome and intelligent, that was what they called him.

And then came his first failure.

His friends and colleagues at the Circle bought him a courtesan for the night – a beautiful, intelligent creature, with soft body and ample curves. And no matter how much he wanted, he just couldn’t make himself want her; at least not in the way he was supposed to.

Panic hit him with a force of a well-aimed Stone Fist. Dorian Pavus, unable to perform as a man.

The courtesan was very patient and understanding with him that night; the long years of experiences with young and nervous men showing in the way she patiently calmed him down, and led him through the ways two people could take pleasure in each other, making Dorian see the stars several times throughout the night in the process.

All in all, it had been nice, warm and pleasant affair, and at the same time, wrong in a way he didn't quite understand; the sense of wrongness stopping him from going all out, and instead, he focused on the woman, lying on the luxurious pillows before him, making sure she was sated as well.

**-o.O.o-**

The sense of wrongness remained in him for quite some time, even if he got better at pleasuring the women who sometimes seemed to jump into his bed (the courtesan being one of his regulars, or maybe he should say that he remained one of hers). It only got explained, when one of his peers, a decadent being by all accounts, started to pursue him, and when the man kissed him, Dorian felt himself responding, eagerly returning the kisses; a tight knot of shame, mixing with pleasure, heavy in his stomach.

In the end, it was laughable how easy it was to explain his weird feelings about carnal relations with women. While pleasant company, and an aesthetically pleasing shape, their bodies were never what he wanted to explore with his hands, what he wanted to look at, what he wanted to conquer and what he wanted to be conquered with.

It was a secret between them, a guilty pleasure to keep.


	2. Chapter 2

 

It only came to his attention how unnatural his attraction was being considered, when there had been a scandal that shook the whole of Qarinus. Two men, caught together in bed, very clearly enjoying each other in a way no proper Tevinter man should, and refusing to be ashamed about it.

“Disgusting,” his mother said during the family dinner that day, her mouth, masterfully painted, twisting in a grimace. His father, who otherwise would only rarely agree on anything with his wife, nodded.

“They are a shame to their families,” was all he had to say about the subject, and Dorian felt an icy hand grip his heart.

_ 'You are disgusting,' _ his mind told him.  _ 'Shameful.' _

The next day, he told his paramour their affair had no future and thus he was ending it.

He tried to tell himself he hadn't seen the broken look in Publius's eyes, but it came as a cold comfort that night, when he was falling asleep in his bed; too big for one to sleep in, and way too cold to rest comfortably.

Not even a change of his sleeping arrangements (smaller, yet no less luxurious bed) made it better, and guiltily, Dorian found himself in yet another affair; this time with an older man.

They had their fun, sure, but the moments he saw him in public, they never acknowledged what they meant to each other, how well their hands knew every centimetre of each other's skin, lips that stopped every louder noise from escaping.

Only once Dorian attempted to lead the conversation towards the topic of them. Only there was no  _ 'them' _ . There was only  _ 'you' _ and  _ 'I' _ , as far as Corius was concerned.

Dorian never asked about it again, the lesson being a bitter pill to swallow even without ever trying to repeat it.

**-o.O.o-**

After Corius, there had been a string of one night stands with similarly minded men, who knew what they wanted, and knew where to go for it, with only one exception of the  _ 'no attachments' _ , but he was too much of a coward when it mattered.

As long as it wasn't flounced in the public, nobody would comment on it. Behind closed doors, all was fine.

Until it wasn't.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one chapter with an ending note that might be to my readers' interests.

 

 

It was during the happiest times of his life that all that was well for him got torn apart.

He started studying under patronage of Alexius, his father's friend and a researcher of great renown even in the Imperium, and it was time of challenges, great breakthroughs and a real, genuine friendship; a balm on Dorian's soul, still bruised after Rilienus.

Life in Gereon Alexius's household was unusual, a stark contrast to everything Dorian ever knew.

For one, Alexius absolutely adored his wife, who returned the sentiment fully; the sincere affection making every meal into a warm meeting of people who didn't gleefully hate each other.

Second, Felix, Gereon's son, wasn't the most talented of all mages, but he grew up on Dorian, especially when the other man would cheekily sneak him treats, when his father made him research and write long into the night.

And third – they viewed him with the same affection, treated him like a friend, and a family member.

It all came apart in a span of a very short time; the change abrupt, and disastrous.

First, Lydia and Felix were part of a caravan that got ambushed by the Darkspawn between Qarinus and Hossberg. Lydia perished in the attack, and as if that wasn't tragedy enough, Felix got infected by the Taint, and suffered from Blight disease, that was slowly but surely killing him.

To say that Gereon dealt with it badly would be an understatement. Dorian did his best to help his mentor, dragging him out of his study for meals, forcing him to sleep and then wake up in the mornings. Nothing seemed to be helping, and then they had a huge fight.

“Lydia would be so disappointed in you!” Dorian yelled at his mentor, and Gereon yelled right back; a shouting match with the whole household as witnesses, and then Dorian left, slamming the door behind him, Felix calling after him, and only that slowed him down.

“Dorian,” the other man told him, “father didn't mean it.”

“Maybe,” was all he said. “But I certainly meant what I said. Your mother, Felix, would be very sad if she saw how your father fell apart, and you know it.”

This time, Felix let him go, looking after him until he turned around the corner and he couldn't see him any more.

**-o.O.o-**

Dorian threw himself into his one night stands once again, sleeping with everyone willing, and that was when another change came.

“Dorian,” his father told him one day at breakfast, “house of Herathinos is offering us a match between you, and their youngest daughter, Livia.”

He forced back a snort. Livia – that nearly bloodless, beautiful and otherwise completely dull woman, with barely enough magic talent to be considered a mage, and did he mention already that she was  _ a woman _ ?

And that was when he was finally allowed to learn that his parents always knew what he was up to, knew exactly where his interests lied; maintaining the illusion of him keeping his private affairs private, when it never had been like that.

There had been absolutely terrible shouting match between them, one he would almost bet his new staff half of Qarinus had heard, but it was one thing that his father said that made everything absolutely quiet.

“You are no son of mine.”

Dorian left the Pavus estate in a haze, barely enough mind to get at least some of his things with him, so he wouldn't be completely without any essentials.

Only when he sat on a bed in a room he rented for himself, did he allow the tears to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was named "one for your block lists" on tumblr for writing this fic, because, obviously, I do not have a clue why writing this is just so very wrong but still am proud of this fic. Oh, and by the way, OP, according to one of the comments under that particular entry, you are a "some rsndom white girl and NOT a gay man", and we all (but mainly me and the OP) should be already tired of all of this.
> 
> I guess that this means I'm on for some “””””””””””politely”””””””””” (direct quote, by the way, the sarcasm abrupt enough to skin your face) explaning of why this is so very wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... where I obviously start vigorously stomping all over canon, because this had been written long before I actually read it O.o

 

Living outside a tavern room was strange, Dorian had to confess, but at the same time, it was invigorating.

Qarinus never had been much visited city, if one went to the Tevinter Imperium, but it had its share of outlanders, and all of these would bring news from their countries with them.

Mage rebellion, started in Kirkwall by rather spectacular explosion of the city's Chantry, shaking the southern Thedas after the second voting of the College of Enchanters decided that Mages indeed will rebel, followed by Templar rebellion; two events that escalated into a full-blown Mage-Templar war and the South didn't know where to put out the fires first.

If it weren't for some dangerous moves in his own country, this… Venatori group… he would only looked at the happenings with great interest, and then maybe offer his help somewhere where he thought it could be put to best use.

But when his old mentor, Gereon Alexius, came to ask him to join the Venatori, he felt his hackles raise.

“If they are promising you to heal Felix, they are lying,” he told his mentor bluntly. “It's just a way how to get your hopes high, and the end will be the same.”

It wasn't the only message he had from people from his former life. His father contacted him as well, seemingly wishing to mend the bridges, and Dorian felt his hopes rise.

Only the servant that desperately searched for him in the city warned him from the things to come.

“My lord,” the man said, gripping his hands in a gesture he would never dare otherwise, showing how important the whole thing was to the man. “Do not go home. It's not safe for you.”

“Dominic, what's going on?” He was confused, why should the home of his family be dangerous to him now?

“Blood magic,” the man trembled just thinking about it. “They plan something with you and blood magic, your parents. Your father already got the whole ritual ready, several slaves waiting to be slaughtered.”

“But why?”

“He,” Dominic lowered his eyes. “I heard him telling your mother, lady Aquinea, that it is a way to correct you. I had to find you, my lord. I just had.”

_ Correct him _ . 

Dorian felt as if someone just pulled carpet from beneath his feet. He knew of the ritual Dominic spoke about. Blood magic, fueling powers that in theory could change him into a very willing puppet to do everything his parents wanted – in this instance, the thing being he  _ happily _ married to Livia of house Herathinos, and making pretty and fat and proper Tevinter babies.

Last resort of a weak mind.

He thanked the servant for the last service rendered to him in return for some favour he couldn’t remember anymore yet had been so important to the man that he risked everything to warn him and ran, as quickly as his legs would carry him that day, as far as he could.

_ South _ . He would go South, to try to stop those Venatori from whatever mischief they wanted to cause.

Not because of the danger that blood magic used on him could be, were he not warned. Not because just the idea of this last resort of his father hurt him deeply to the core.

Because it was right thing to do, even if in all likeness nobody would thank him for stepping in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not dead (obviously - or not?), but any regular updates are still quite out of question. My work and my university studies together will keep me driven to the ground, and I am under no illusions that my colleagues will actually get out of their way to allow me time to study without running me ragged, no matter how much they say they will (as I already checked during the summer - I don't think anyone else had been at work as much as I had been, and on such awful combination of shifts). The company of my colleagues, or at least some of them, is making me feel very unispired, and tired, because dealing with idiots who go out of their way to play games at you does that to you, and I can't wait for my vacation to finally arrive, since my nerves are very close to snapping.
> 
> I really need another job D: Which brings me - do you know I accept fanfic commissions? Check out my deviantART profile for more info about my commission policy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to the South and all the fun in this world (and time) is to be had.

His journey South had been difficult; made even more difficult by his lack of money and other things. Add to it the fact that he was from the Imperium and suddenly, half of the doors that would be open to him otherwise suddenly got slammed in his face.

And to make things more interesting, just a few days before he crossed the Waking Sea, the Conclave the Divine Justinia called, went belly up with a very loud bang, tearing the sky and killing nearly everyone in the process.

Nearly.

One person survived, stumbling from the Fade with a radiant figure behind them, before the tear closed, very quickly being known as Herald of Andraste; a mage of the Circle, of House of Trevelyan from Ostwick, attending the Conclave to help to soothe things up with her noble lineage and cool head.

Just his goodluck, that she actually chose to speak with the rebel mages in Redcliffe, shortly after he arrived, and found Felix and Alexius already there, while he was fairly certain they were somewhere behind him yet.

Felix played his part well; maybe too well, and he got to speak with this Herald.

Charming young woman, Tempest, with unnaturally electric blue eyes and hair so light they looked silver, dressed in an armour more suited for an archer than a mage, a sword and shield wielding warriors, dwarven archer with a very spectacular crossbow and elven mage by her side, as they battled the demons and she closed the rift that opened in the place of their secret meeting.

She watched him with wary yet curious eyes as he made his way towards her (one of the warriors, the man, watched him with great suspicion, and even if he hadn’t say anything, the woman certainly cautioned the Herald against trusting him), only stopping him after he had to pause to breathe in his litany of questions about the Mark.

“And who are  _ you _ supposed to be?” she asked him, a soft voice not really suited for someone of her rank and reputation, and he had to catch himself before he could fire even more questions at her. Felix arrived then, and shed light on the current happenings taking place in Redcliffe. Time magic, before impossible but now everything but.

They left him with a promise of meeting the next day, leaving him to lead the scouts of one of the Inquisition leaders, Leliana, through the secret tunnel to the Redcliffe Castle, and that was when things went topsy turvy again.

Gereon Alexius made the experimental time magic real, and Dorian interrupted his spell right in the middle.

Light surrounded him and Tempest, and when they next opened eyes, it was in a completely different time.

**-o.O.o-**

When they opened their eyes, it was to a strange and different place than the one they had been just an eye-blink before – and not only because of the red lyrium that was, like, absolutely everywhere.  _ No. _ The whole air seemed stiff, and stale, and for a moment, Tempest was breathing rapidly, looking around wildly, the knuckles on the hand holding her stuff completely white.

“Don't worry,” he told her with as much bravado as he could muster in attempt to calm the clearly panicking woman down. “I am here, and I'll protect you.”

That actually gave her a pause, as she gave him a small, shy smile. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, looking so very small and even younger than she obviously were, “it's just that my brother was around for as long as I can remember and the last time we got separated,” she grimaced, and raised her left hand a bit, “was when I got this.”

She took one more deep breath, readjusting her hold on her staff. “Let's go,” she told him, straightening her back. “We got to figure out where the hell are we, and how to get out of here.”

Showed they were still in Castle Redcliffe. Only… one year in a very dark future.

To see his new companions, Varric (the dwarf) and Marcus (the human warrior, and Tempest’s older brother, obviously), covered in red lyrium was something he never would wish to see, ever again, yet it was a sight that first opened their eyes to exactly how bad this future had been.

Both men were still surprisingly sane, given the circumstances, and it took all Tempest's restraint not to hug her brother within an inch of his life. Well, all her restraint and also her brother's gentle admonishment when he warned her not to touch him, lest she would get infected by the red lyrium as well, his voice serious and strangely dual-tone.

If before Tempest impressed him with how she handled herself in a fight, now she impressed him even more. Her magic flew around her, weaving a shield and piercing her opponents with a spear, icy touch being followed by fire blast, all while they pieced the happenings of the last year.

They found Leliana, the Inquisition's spymaster; after year of being tortured and experimented on, she was understandably bitter yet remained unbroken, and was able to tell them the most.

Magister Gereon Alexius grew very paranoid in the disappearance of Herald of Andraste, fortifying the Castle so much that its walls were literally impenetrable, for he always knew the Herald would be back.

Until they found his journal, detailing some of his findings in the time magic, many things still didn't make sense. But this, this final piece of a mosaic, finally slid everything home.

Felix was but a shadow of his former self, and it pained Dorian to see him like that; a ghoul, no sentience visible in his empty eyes. Leliana slitting his throat had been a mercy to him, even if seeing his friend dying hurt.

Still, it was not all; first, they needed to defeat Gereon, and get his amulet, the one that sent them here, and use it for their return, so they could stop this from happening. And for that they needed time that got more precious by each passing second, and every bit of it was granted to them by sacrifices of their friends.

Varric and Marcus were the first line of slowing the Venatori down, Leliana being the last.

“You have as much time as I have arrows,” was what the woman told him. “And remember – for you, this might be just a future you will prevent from happening, but for us, it happened.”

Casting the spell had been quick. Waiting for it to take effect had been torturous.

Varric and Marcus had been overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of their attackers, leaving Leliana to shoot with grim precision Dorian haven't seen before.

She was reciting Chant of light as she fired her arrows, unflinching against the horde that rushed towards her.

“Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame.”

Arrow released.

“Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side.”

She was firing more rapidly now, as the Venatori and demons got closer. Then they were too close, and when finally one of them grabbed Leliana, Dorian had to pull Tempest back, so she wouldn't leave the small circle affected by their spell.

“You move and we all die,” he hissed at her, hating himself for the pained look in her eyes, as she looked towards Leliana one last time.

And then they were back; right where it all started.

Gereon stared at them in open surprise. Dorian smirked. “You will have to do better than then.”

**-o.O.o-**

First thing Tempest did was to reach Gereon in three quick, sharp steps, and punch the Magister right in the face, causing the man to cry out in shock and pain.

The man was broken, even Tempest in her fury had seen that. She demanded he put aside all the claims he could have had towards Redcliffe in order to live, and the man hadn't said a word of protest against that.

It physically hurt to see his mentor broken so badly, and Felix so calm about his fate.

And then she turned around and started to yell at Fiona. It was almost funny to see the leader of Mage Rebellion getting smaller by each second of Herald's yelling. But then Dorian remembered the future they had seen, how Tempest's brother died nearly before her eyes, and how vulnerable she seemed without him around, when they first appeared there, and understood exactly where that fury came out of.

Still, it seemed she had so much more to say, when her epic rant had been interrupted by arrival of no one else but the King Alistair of Ferelden himself.

The monarch had been, who would have thought so, very angry at Fiona and her rebel mages as well, and Dorian thought of all the accounts of Warden Alistair from the time during the Blight, and how the years of ruling, with Queen Allison Cousland by his side, changed the man, and gave him a backbone of steel and speech skills that would make him a wonderful Magister, the words he spoke rather few, yet very sharp and right to the point.

The rebel mages were no longer welcome in Ferelden, and they better move quickly, or they would be moved. For a second, Dorian felt himself wonder how on Thedas did Queen Allison leave such a grand man for some mission of hers.

Tempest tensely offered the mages a deal – and alliance, the mages partners to the Inquisition. “Just make sure it's not you I have to deal with,” she snapped at Fiona, and turning on her heel, she marched towards King Alistair to speak with him for a moment, her brother quick to follow after her.

The King didn't even bat an eyelash, when the Herald marched up to him, politely nodding his head to her, before they started talking together. Apparently, the former templar wasn't worried by obviously very annoyed mage that close to him, and if anything, Dorian thought he saw him gazing at the young woman with a certain fondness in his gaze.

Returning to Haven with the Inquisition, Dorian allowed his mind wander. Gereon Alexius – to be judged. Felix Alexius – dying slowly, but resigned to his fate, willing to do as much as he could in the time left to him. Tempest and Marcus Trevelyan, siblings so close they could finish each other’s sentences; she the charming persona with a shy smile, he the grim bodyguard whose eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings, always watching for a threat to stop. Varric Tethras, a surface dwarf of a great renown, mostly due to his storytelling skills, who already gave him a nickname, Sparkles, and would exchange bullshit with him the whole journey back with no trouble. The rest of the people around them, watching him with suspicion.

But he would deal with it just like he always did. He gave them a bright, false smile, and pretended it didn't hurt.

**-o.O.o-**

The Herald had been talking to the Inquisition advisers, and joking about how she hoped to just take a nap while the rest of them did close the Breach, and the advisers joined her up in that, when Dorian came by and announced he would like to stay.

Her reply had been a radiant smile. “There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time, future or present.”

He returned the smile, feeling relieved to finally be accepted somewhere, even if he had no doubt that everyone will be watching as if he were some kind of extra rare insect.

Let them stare. He would just look dashing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, remember how I said that I'm under no illusions of my colleagues actually going out of their way to help me study without me falling right on my face? I've just seen the shift schedule. I so hope the karma will come round and bite them right where it hurts.
> 
> Also - guess who's leaving later today for a vacation? :D Probably the only one I will have in a very long time, but hey, I'll take all the days out of work I can get. At least my intellect won't suffer there as much as it does when I'm at work, huh O.o
> 
> And another also - have you checked my store FaceBook page yet? I just like to share my fractal art and merchandise there (and some other stuff that I like), and you can find it here - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Veronikas-Fractal-Emporium/1028960280464352
> 
> And last but not the least also - I'm glad you are still around, OP, and if you ever want to talk, you can find me on FanFiction.net or deviantART, too.


	6. Chapter 6

 

The next few weeks spent at Haven taught him more about winter and snow han he ever wanted to know.

It was bloody cold, and wet, and no matter how much he tried, he could never get warm just the way he liked. Well, part of that had been his own fault - Tevene fashion was anything but suitable for this weather, and given his insistence on wearing as much of his Tevinter  attire as possible, it was no wonder that he was cold.

And then there had been the part that he was generally disliked for being from Tevinter.

His drinks were watered down, and delivered slowly. 

The wood delivered to the cot he was given was mostly wet, and it took forever to start fire with it, even with his spells.

If he asked for assistance, no matter who it had been, he had been snubbed, outright ignored, and only in a very few occasions he would actually be helped.

Still, he wouldn’t complain. It would only make him target to even more abuse, he was sure of it.

**-o.O.o-**

Tempest Trevelyan had been a mystery.

Sure, she had been as open as they were, quick with a shy smile, and easy to make blush with a smartly worded remark or two, as he, Sera and Varric, found out.

This was a mage who walked around with her head up, eyes always looking curiously around, seemingly unafraid of anything and anyone. She would be wearing her heart on her sleeve and probably not think twice about it, and Dorian shuddered to think what the Imperium would do with such a gentle soul, a being so unlike her namesake.

Marcus Trevelyan, her brother, would easily fit the cliché of dark and mysterious warriors; the man often quiet, only rarely speaking up to anyone else but Tempest. It actually came as a surprise to Dorian that he was also a templar; the knowledge getting into his head only after he had seen the man smite several of Venatori who hurled spells at them. 

Next to him, Tempest hadn’t batted an eyelash before she started raining doom on them, and only after the Venatori had been killed by the combined effort of Marcus, Cassandra, Varric and the two of them, he thought to ask her about it.

“It always had been like that in the House of Trevelyan,” she told him. “A mage would always be accompanied to the Circle by a sibling among the Templars closest to them.”

“The Chantry allowed it?” he asked, rather dumbly, when he thought about it later.

It had been Marcus who calmly answered that question.

“They encouraged it, actually. What better way to keep the mage or the templar in line, than to threaten their family?”

**-o.O.o-**

The weeks since he joined the ranks of the infamous Inquisition stretched into months, and he came to know his comrades better.

The Inquisition had been a mix of misfits, it seemed to Dorian’s eyes. In Tevinter, uniformity was expected most of the time. Not a toe out of line, and you’ll do fine, period.

But this?

Just from what he could see, this had been as international as it could get, Fereldans, Marchers, Antivans, elves of uncertain land of origin and Qunaris. And it seemed to work quite effortlessly, much to his surprise. As another misfit, he fitted right in.

At least as far as it came with being generally weird to the eyes of general public. He was under no illusion he was overly liked by his companions; more like tolerated. 

The Warden didn’t bother to hide his disdain; the emotion radiating from him in waves. 

Sera would joke and trade bullshit with him, but he noticed the way her eyes followed his every gesture, waiting for him to cast a spell or stab his hand with a knife and then cast a spell.

The elven apostate, Solas, swapped between talking about magical theory to basically spitting at everything that even looked like Tevinter.

Varric seemed rather cordial to him, amicably chatting with him and even offering him help on several occasions; the dwarf clearly undisturbed by him being not only a mage, but also a mage from Tevinter (which came as quite a surprise, given the experiences he had with mages from Tevinter, at least according to the Tale of Champion).

Cassandra didn’t trust him, even if she could be polite to him in her own, spiky way. As a Seeker, she was generally wary of everything, but at times, she was almost friendly. Almost.

The Qunari switched between insults, leering and what Dorian supposed the Qunari thought was flirting, but had been giving him goose-bumps, and not in a good and funny way. He didn’t realize how observant Marcus really had been until after another of rather one-sided conversations with Bull, where the man stepped in and calmly told Bull that no bullying (no pun intended) shall be tolerated towards any member of the inner circle, and that’s final. 

Josephine, the sweet and fussy Ambassador, who at times seemed ready to tear every single one of her hair in frustration over some of the antics they managed to do, and she had to smooth over.

Leliana, the Spymaster, gave him one of her smiled; the one that raised every alarm in his body that could be set, well, alarmed. Her eyes could see everything, he thought, and for a second he squirmed under her scrutiny.

Commander of the Inquisition forces had been the former Knight Captain of Kirkwall Circle, Cullen Rutherford, and surprisingly, for a former Templar, the man was one of the few who didn’t give him any trouble.

Among them, the Herald and her brother seemed almost normal.

Tempest once told him, when they were talking by the fireside in one of their camps, that women of their house were usually named with modest names; Submit, Temperance, Charity and such.

Her name had been a bit of a rebellion by her mother, married into the House of Trevelyan, who disagreed with that custom.

_ Modest in anger, bold in deed, _ the family motto said. And her mother wanted someone who would be unlike that motto, at least partially.

Showed how much she knew, when her second youngest had been one of the calmest children the whole family had ever known. The only moment she truly lived up to her namesake had been when she nearly set the seteé on fire, when her magic showed when she was ten.

At the time, Marcus had just finished his Templar training, and with this development he followed after her into the Ostwick Circle, her fiercest protector and jailor.

Obviously, Tempest had been quite content at the Circle; not happy, but content. The possibility to study the magic that flowed in her veins without having to worry about needlessly endangering others gave her peace about the way her life turned.

Of course, that’s when the mage rebellion sparkled, and all of that changed quite abruptly.

She and her brother had been specially handpicked by the Aequaterians, who viewed the Circle as something that was alright, but needed changes, and with the same peace about her, she went to argue the points with both sides on the Conclave.

And then once again all went belly up, and here they were, warming their hands over fire in the middle of Fereldan countryside, swapping stories.

For a long time, Dorian thought her incapable of living up to her name (well, apart from that single moment of awesome when she punched Alexius and yelled at Fiona). But then she finally found out of all the slights that had been made against him, and boy, did the things explode.

He just couldn’t be more proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you might have noticed that I changed the name of my Trevelyan from Viola to Tempest. The change suited my plans with the story a bit better. And ugh, next time we will probably finally move towards closing the Breach, oooh ya!
> 
> Also, I understand that there is a lot of conflict in the fandom concernng Dorian/Iron Bull romance. I realize that we do not see everything that happens between them, but from what I could see, it always seemed that Dorian just couldn't get far enough from Bull, and then bam! They were in a relationship? So, sorry folks, no mentions of Bull/Dorian romance in here apart from this short mention in this fic, but I think you could find enough works with that pairing, if you'd like.


End file.
